


Incidental Accidents

by Skylar_Matthews



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Mechpreg, kink meme fill
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-15
Updated: 2015-05-15
Packaged: 2018-01-24 20:55:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1616810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skylar_Matthews/pseuds/Skylar_Matthews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jazz and Prowl have a casual agreement going but what happens when Prowl's busy with his work and life and Jazz ends up sparked?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: http://tfanonkink.livejournal.com/11776.html?thread=12470016#t12470016

There was a knock and the door slid open. A glance up and Prowl was only moderately surprised at who it was, mostly because he hadn't just strolled in. "Jazz."

"Heya Prowler." The response was hesitant but he seemed to gain confidence as he spoke. "Ya got some free time?"

"For you?" The question that was really more of a statement received a slight nod. "I can make time." The tension in the saboteur's frame seemed to melt away at that but it returned almost immediately with Prowl's next question. "Is this personal or professional?"

Jazz couldn't keep his tone light as he answered, "personal," but Prowl just nodded.

"Your room or mine?"

"Was thinkin' yers since I got a bit a' mess in mine from the last job yet but I can do some clean up if ya prefer my quarters?"

"Mine will be fine." Prowl was still working on the datapad before him but looked up again. "I'll make sure to arrive before third shift. I trust you don't need the code?"

"Nah, I got my ways." The comment was made with a grin that only grew when he received a smile in return. "Be seein' ya tonight then?"

"Yes." There was a note of genuine pleasure in the tactician's tone and Jazz sauntered out happily after a quick salute.

~

A few kliks before second shift ended found Prowl leaving his office. It was, admittedly, a bit earlier than usual but everything that couldn't be pushed off had been handled and if anyone commented he could just use the classic excuse that Ratchet was always trying to get him to work less.

The trip to his quarters took almost no time and was entirely uneventful as the only ones out and about were those heading onto shift. His code was entered immediately and he stepped inside once the door opened, shutting it again without even turning the lights on.

"I hope you weren't waiting too long," Prowl said into the darkness as he moved further in.

"Only been here 'bout a joor," Jazz answered as he all but materialized out of nowhere beside Prowl. "Had some missions that needed plannin' ta keep me busy too."

"That's good. I still get a helmache trying to process what you did the last time you were alone and bored in my rooms."

Jazz chuckled and moved a little closer, his field rolling out to wash over the Praxian as he spoke. "I decided I should behave this time seein' as someone did promise a very..." here he flared a particularly strong burst of desire, "enticing night."

"So all it takes is the promise of a good frag to keep you from causing trouble?" Prowl teased verbally as he loosened hold on his own field to mingle with the almost familiar one around him. "To think the planet's greatest spy can be tamed so easily..."

A playful scoff. "I ain't tamed, I just know not ta wreck a good time b'fore it starts."

"True..." Their intermingled fields wove a complex dance of want and desire but it was only enough to cause a gentle buzz to their systems. Taking the next step in their game, Prowl brought a servo up to ghost across one of Jazz’s sensor horns, feeling pleased when it caused a hitch in his venting. “And just what did you have planned for us tonight?”

They had learned early on that Jazz liked variety and Prowl liked best catering to his whims in the berth. Even if they didn’t always make it to the berth…

“Been a while so I was thinkin’ just somethin’ simple.” Jazz continued when Prowl nodded. “Maybe you takin’ me, anywhere an’ everywhere.” A hungry engine purr was the only response as he went on. “Against the wall, in the berth, right here… An’ I’ll ride ya ‘till we both collapse.“

“I love the way you think sometimes.”

They moved almost as one to touch and explore, servos wandering over plating to locate pressure points and caress sensitive sensors. Each was looking to drive the other’s charge higher, as high as they could. The nibbling of neck cables was met by the stroking of headlights. A touch to sensitive audials matched by contact with equally sensitive sensor panels. It was enough that their first shared overload surprised them both, coming on after only a moderate amount of tactile stimulation.

As they came down off the rush, fans running high to vent heat as the clung to one another in the middle of the room, Prowl breathed out a soft statement. “It really has been a long time…”

Jazz nodded, agreeing with the very statement he'd already made before pulling back from where he was pressed against the other's frame. "Not bad for a warm up though, but how 'bout we get to the real fun?"

His words were followed by the soft click of a panel opening and Prowl chuckled. "Eager as always I see."

"Yes," Jazz all but moaned his answer when Prowl stuck two digits inside him. Almost immediately he tried to grind against them, trying to impale himself further on the not unpleasant intrusion but Prowl removed them all too soon.

"So wet already," the Praxian commented. He drew his servo up Jazz immediately took it, maneuvering it so he could draw those same digits into his mouth to clean them of his own fluids. The little show earned another pleased engine rumble. "You've been neglecting yourself, haven't you?"

"Been busy," the spy managed to mutter as he ran his glossa strategically along the other's digits before finally releasing them. "An' it's always better with a partner or two."

Slowly, deliberately, he ran a servo down a seam along Prowl's side, then to his interface panel. "Aren't you gonna open up fer me? I want you... I need you."

"Shouldn't we loosen you up a bit more? I wouldn't want to hurt you."

"Don't ya know that I like a tight fit?" Jazz replied with a smirk and flare of annoyance in his field which Prowl answered with a touch of amusement.

"Don't you know that you look amazing all teased and needy?"

Jazz huffed. "Fine, if you're being like that then catch me." And then he slipped away from the other's grasp.

The room was, naturally, too small to avoid the inevitable but Jazz did manage to evade capture for almost a klik before he found himself caught and pressed firmly against the wall. That, however, only put him exactly where he wanted to be with the added bonus of hiking Prowl's charge higher so that when the former Enforcer caught him it only took a slight bit more encouragement to get what he wanted. 

"You think you can handle me?" Prowl challenged as he slid into the slick heat of Jazz's valve. It was tight but not as much as he'd worried and the throbbing walls around his spike made the sensation even more pleasant.

"Nah, I think ya can't handle me." Jazz answered the challenge with one of his own, rolling his hips as he spoke. He only barely bit back his own moan so he could hear Prowl's.

Wearing the slightest hint of a smirk, Prowl drew out slowly, oh so slowly, before starting to push in again at the same excruciatingly slow pace only to stop when he'd barely begun. He then stayed still as a statue watching Jazz squirm against the grip on his hips when the saboteur realized he wasn't continuing.

Finally Jazz caved, whining out his designation in need. "Prowl...."

"What was that?" the tactician teased. "I don't know that I heard you..."

"Ok, fine, I yield. Ya win..." Jazz let the words trail off as Prowl gave into him finally and pushed back in rapidly. Compared to his previous pace this one seemed to hit all his sensor nodes at once and Jazz found himself overloading once again. His consolation was pulling Prowl with him when his valve clenched tight on the tactician's spike.

Somehow they managed to stay standing, the wall probably helped Jazz mused in his mind, and when his vision cleared enough to watch Prowl's expression he finished what he'd been saying. "Yer better than me at denying yerself, but I still got better endurance."

"We'll see about that," Prowl answered with a new challenge

~

It was several joors and many, many overloads later that found them in the tactician's berth, Jazz riding his spike just to make a show. Their meaningless challenge long forgotten, nothing more than empty words to spur on more pleasure. Overload washed once more over them both and in the haze of coming back down there was the soft sound of chestplating unlocking.

Prowl was first to recover, immediately apologizing. "I'm sorry. That wasn't supposed to... I'm not actually asking you to do this..."

Jazz caught his servos as Prowl made to re-cover his spark chamber. "It's cool. I've not merged in a while either."

Prowl nodded as Jazz let his own chestplating slide apart and released his servos. One perk of being a senior officer was a very specialized sorta but not-quite-firewall programing to protect one's spark from unwanted intrusions. So they could still have the fun side of merging without worry about memory exchange. Although to keep it a secret those with the code didn't often merge with those without it.

Carefully Jazz lowered himself onto Prowl to bring their chambers together. Riding the tail end of all their physical overloads it wasn't long before the mixing of their sparks washed out their senses yet again.

When Jazz came to, shortly before Prowl, he rolled sideways to lay beside the other on the berth, mindful of his doorwings. When he found the tactician's optics on him, the spy spoke in a weary but content tone. "Call that one a draw?"

Prowl didn't answer immediately, just sat up without letting Jazz out of his sight. When he did speak his voice was somber. "Are you alright? You haven't been this insatiable since that mission where half your team deactivated."

"I'm fine," Jazz huffed as he sat up too. "Nobody offlined, I was just lookin' fer some fun an' I know I'm yer only outlet so two Seekers, one shot."

"Are you really fine? If something happened there's bots you can speak wi-"

"Stop Prowl." Jazz vented, irritation flooding his field. "You don't have to pretend you actually care about me."

Prowl went silent, considering. He almost spoke but decided against it. After a few kliks Jazz moved to climb off the berth and Prowl let him go, shifting only to make it easier.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was going to add the "break up" scene in this chapter but things ran longer than I planned so that's next time around. Might just turn out better for that too.

One of the perks of being a Special Ops agent was access to all sorts of fancy new and often untested tech with a myriad of uses. Sure, the reasoning behind gaining access to the tech wasn't the most pleasant; torture and risk of certain death being high on the list, but the tech itself was often cool and highly useful even outside combat. Such as the modified inhibitor 'chip's, redesigned to be both a string of code and a piece of hardware. The coding was a streamlined version of the original inhibitor programming, serving to interrupt and block any signals that would generally result in getting sparked, while the implant was injected into an Energon line near the spark chamber before it migrated to it's undisclosed final location and also doubling as a backup, sending out a sporadic replacement of the coding. A great improvement to the original coding that had to be reinstalled by a medic every time a hack or other mental intrusion even touched the inhibition code.

At least it was a great improvement when it worked, Jazz complained mentally as he made his way to his target. Instead he had to get a faulty version that managed to glitch up at one of the worst possible times. And not only that, but he'd had to learn of it through legitimately the worst source ever!

~

Jazz ducked behind an outcropping of metallic boulders as one of the Coneheads came sweeping past on a strafing run. They had been alternating covering the area while the Command trine hovered around and took potshots at any Autobots they saw or tried to get too close to Megatron’s new weapon. It was the reason for this battle; the Autobots having gotten news of the Decepticon leader’s intended unveiling of his new ‘super weapon’. As always, it looked like nothing spectacular and half the time these constructs didn’t even work on their own but there was always the chance it might. Hence the need for a battle to cover sabotage; his specialty and reason for sneaking through the battle rather than fighting

Peeking out from behind his hiding spot, Jazz spotted another good cover location that would set him almost on top of the weapon. Unfortunately the distance was a risk and would leave him entirely vulnerable until he reached it but what’s life without a little risk? Scanning the skies for any nearby Seekers, and silently thanking his good luck when there were none visible, Jazz leapt out from behind his current hide-out to make his way to the next.

Somehow his luck held and he made it without incident.

And then his luck ran out.

What he hadn’t seen from his previous location was that this spot was on the edge of a ledge with a steep drop, and when he vaulted the ruins of some old wall the saboteur ended up tumbling off a cliff.

Thankfully the distance wasn't too great, but it was still a rough trip and would hurt like the Pit no matter how he landed. Or so he tried to convince himself in the moment between noticing the drop and actually falling. There was nothing that could be done to stop it though, so he just tucked himself in as his descent began, trying to protect as much if his frame as possible.

Upon landing the saboteur did the most natural thing; swear up a storm as he took stock of his injuries. Nothing too terrible but his balance stabilizer gave protest when he tried to rise and made his vision go static when he tried to reject its complaints. "Fraggin' Pit-spawn'a a glitch! That hurt!"

"Not as much as this is gonna."

Blue visor snapped up to find a gun barrel directly on him. There was a hint of black and purple both in the peripheral, just outside the view of impending pain. Skywarp then, and unlike Starscream he didn't just have a null ray. Frag, this was not going to be fun...

Before Jazz could even attempt to process a way out of this, or even open his mouth to try speaking, there was the sound of an engine cutting and a soft touchdown. A new voice, screechy and raspy, named it the very Seeker who'd just crossed his mind but the words weren't anything he could have ever expected.

"Put that thing away, glitch."

"But Star," Skywarp whined. "If I do that the Autodolt will escape!"

"You idiot." Starscream's tone belied his standard lack of interest. "Pay attention to something other than yourself for once."

Both were silent then for a klik, time which Jazz ended up using trying to figure out what they were doing since making his escape wasn't exactly an option presently. Finally though, Skywarp gave a soft 'oh' and then vanished with a 'vop' when Starscream replied with, "took you long enough, now get back out there."

With the wielder gone, so too went the weapon aimed at his faceplates and Jazz found himself staring instead at the Decepticon Second in Command now. Neither the most pleasant nor welcome sight, but at least his weapon wouldn't hurt too badly if shot by it. The spy didn't really expect a chance to talk, but he never would have anticipated the words spoken at him.

"The Autobots must be stupid or desperate if they're sending carriers into battle, so which is it?" When Jazz didn't respond quickly enough though, Starscream just went on with a scoff. "Not like I'd expect you to tell the truth anyway... So whose is it? How good of a ransom will they pay to get you and your little one back intact?"

Jazz just stared for a while until finally he found the commands to loosen his vocalizer. "What d'ya mean "little one"?" He knew what the phrase meant but that just didn't make sense...

Starscream in turn studied the spy intensely. "You mean you didn't know?"

Jazz only nodded and the Seeker scoffed again. "That just figures. Fragging grounders and their lack of concern for sparklings. The whole lot of you deserve to be ground into dust."

"I don't-"

"Of course you wouldn't care! It's easy for your kind to create so why care if the young spark fades? You can always create again. But even _Autobots_ ," the word was said with a nasty sneer, "should know better than to create a new spark in the middle of a war!"

That was about all Jazz could stand and he found himself shouting back, and somehow on his pedes though it still didn't put him level with the flyer. "Are you insane or did ole Megs just finally knock yer processor outta place? I don' know what yer talkin' 'bout. There's no one I know'a carryin' in the 'Bots and even if there were it's definitely not me."

Somehow that drew a laugh from the Air Commander. "Are you sure about that? Check all your readings."

Jazz was curious now but hesitant. He certainly didn't want to leave himself vulnerable, even if Starscream had yet to draw a weapon on him. It could still be an incredible ruse. "What makes ya so sure anyway? Ya ain't in my frame and ya've sure never had access to my spark..."

"I'm a _Seeker_ ," the flyer stressed the word. "We know these things." Jazz only offered an incredulous expression and got a shrug in response. "Fine. Don't believe me. But whether you believe it or not doesn't change the fact you are carrying."

"Even if I were, why d'ya care?"

Starscream mumbled something about 'idiotic bots' purposefully loud enough for Jazz to hear but the saboteur didn't react. Finally though he huffed and gave an actual answer. "Because if you had any sense, you'd keep yourself off the battlefield. If that's not an option though, because Pit knows that tactician is too cold to care about actual _lives_ , then you should know you do have allies out here.

"As long as you don't attack any Seekers, none of mine will attack you. Threats are taken on an individual basis and may be responded to by trine or bondmates. You will be protected for being a carrier, but not at the risk of our own by your servos." Starscream made a very partial bow, clearly irritated at needing to do so at all. "You have my word as Air Commander and Winglord."

Jazz could only stare, dumbfounded. Maybe he had hit his helm on the way down because none of this was making sense. He was still trying to figure out how to shape his myriad of questions when his comm lines crackled to life with a retreat order. A roar of high power engines said that apparently Starscream had received similar and the Seeker was already taking off when Jazz looked at him again.

So much for trying to ask any questions...

~

It wasn't until much later that same orn that Jazz got to stop and think about Starscream's comments again. It didn't seem possible but stranger things had been known to happen. More disturbed that he was actually letting something the Seeker had said get to him, Jazz decided to run an advanced self-diagnostic anyway. Better to be safe than sorry and maybe there were other ‘Con tricks he’d missed.

He was halfway through the third song on the fourth track when the results alert popped up and he opened it immediately. A quick scan through revealed nothing running at less than acceptable. Even for the average soldier, much less the highly optimized systems of a mech in Special Ops. That meant turning a more careful optic on the report so he settled in on his berth and let the music wash over him as he started to read through properly.

Comms, sensory input, sensory output, firewalls... All were functioning fine. Power conversion had a minor hiccup; outputting a fractionally lower percentage than normal while still being perfectly in range. Nothing life threatening but worth mentioning the next time he was required to be in Ratchet's good graces... Fuel intake was good. So was fuel circulation. Gestation chamber functional and active. Balance stabilizers were back to normal. Sound syste-

Wait.

The saboteur scrolled back through the list and there it was. Frag. How in the Pit had Starscream known?!

At a loss, Jazz opened the function to let him access more detailed information and pointed it at the newly active component. He couldn't help the vented sigh as the new data came up and he read through. Most of it was technical information for medics or advice to first time carriers so he ended up skipping past a majority. Towards the bottom there was a countdown timer, one of the few things he could figure out what was, and he checked it just because.

_Estimated approximate gestation time remaining: 2.300 orn_

Well that was something of a relief, at least he was still at the start of the carry, even if that was longer than a standard carrying cycle was supposed to be. Although, it was only an estimate and the timing was known to change based on factors related to the carrier's health and physical status. And if this war wasn't doing a great job of fragging both of those up then he didn't know what would. This was probably a rather short carry comparatively, what with the war factored in and all; coming to just about a vorn left.

And wasn't that just a wonder? In a little under a vorn, his own situation not deteriorating, he'd have a little one of his own. The thought left him awestruck. And yes, it wasn't ideal during the war but it had happened and there was no way he was going to terminate the young life. Plus the bases were safer than creating out in a Neutral camp and they were still going about it. At least an Autobot base was well defended, and there were always bots around who could be trusted to watch over the sparkling if neither creator was available.

Right. The little one's sire. He'd definitely need to know so they could prepare and he could be ready to donate to their sparkling's development. That thought sent a pleasant shudder through his frame in anticipation and his interface protocols tried to activate. He ruthlessly shut them down though so he could think. Sadness hit when he realized he didn't immediately know who the other creator was but he also set that aside as he tried to figure this out.

It took another two songs before the obvious hit him. Sharing sparks was required for the creation process and he'd only done so once in the last few vorns. So really there was only one mech it could be.

And then reality came crashing back. Hard.

He was carrying for Prowl.

Admittedly, that shouldn't have been too bad. The mech was a bit of a workaholic and definitely wasn't the easiest bot to get along with at first, but he was honest and intelligent and not bad on the optics besides being a surprisingly fun berthmate. All good qualities in a creator. Plus he's Praxian, so any creation of his should take utmost priority.

But it was for that very reason that this was so bad. The other mech's sense of duty was impossibly strong and he knew if Prowl found out then the other mech would devote his time -all his time -too much of his time- to caring for their sparkling and that would only interfere with the mech's duty to the Prime and the rest of the Autobots. Even if he could somehow convince Prowl that focusing on the Autobot cause was more important (not that he harbored any hope of succeeding at _that_ ) it was still bound to be a major conflict for the second in command.

So no, he couldn't tell Prowl or give any indication that the bitlet was his. The thought of lying to the little one's sire hurt, drawing a low keen from him, but it was the best -the only- option. Or so he told himself even as his spark constricted at the thought.

The only problem left was how to keep Prowl from ever considering he'd helped create their sparkling.

The pain in his spark only grew further as he realized it would be necessary to end their 'agreement'. It was early enough still that he could find someone else, claim the new spark was theirs and no one would ever know otherwise. It was a good plan, a smart plan, and it only hurt so badly because the carrier coding was protesting the lack of a definitive sire. Or so he told himself.

Another 10 songs had played before Jazz managed to compose himself enough for the necessary meeting he was about to impose.


	3. Chapter 3

To say Prowl was surprised to find Jazz waiting, leaning against a nearby wall, when he left his office for the night was something of an understatement, but, as with many things related to the spy, he simply accepted it without trying to make it make sense. He had found out long ago that such attempts only resulted in pain and a trip to the Medbay. The lingering processorache often decreased his functionality for several orns as well, so no, Jazz's unpredictability was simply labeled as a fact and he refused to try and make sense of it. That the one time he had asked Jazz to try and explain had set him in Medbay for nearly two entire orn when the spy commented that sometimes it didn't even make sense to himself was another defining factor to that mental edit.

So, rather than question it as many might have, Prowl simply acknowledged him with a flick of his sensor panels and cant of his helm. Jazz took the hint and pushed off the wall to follow.

"Got some time ta talk?"

That tone was unusual and didn't bode well, but Prowl didn't let any of his concerns show as he answered. "Personal matter or professional?"

It was his standard response to such inquiries, especially from Jazz, so it was a shock when the other stilled. He quickly caught up a nanoklik later, but it was still worrying.

"Personal."

The saboteur's response was prompt though his tone was hesitant. Certainly it was a matter he didn't want to bring up or couldn't decide how to do so, but was forcing himself to share while he could. It wasn't anything Prowl hadn't seen or dealt with before, it was simply odd from Jazz. That was the only reason he was starting to worry. That and the added stress the previous battle had naturally caused in terms of additional data work and rebuilding defenses. Jazz certainly knew his post-combat schedule and routine so this must be something important if he was seeking attention before everything had completely tapered off.

"Speak as we walk?" the tactician offered, concealing his thoughts entirely. It wasn't as though his concern was welcomed.

"I think ya'd want a bit more privacy fer this." Another short and unrevealing statement. Except it was too revealing for Jazz, for all it told him nothing he hadn't already determined.

"If that's how you feel," Prowl accepted. "I need to drop off a few datapads in Medbay and speak with Red Alert before my shift ends but neither should take too long. This conversation can hold until I'm through?"

"Sure. Meet me in the Rec Room when yer done."

And before Prowl could respond, he was gone. Curious though, his choice of location. Apparently the matter wasn't nearly as serious as he'd concluded if they were going to discuss it in such a public setting. In any case, it did nothing useful to dwell on it and he pushed the thought from his processor in order to complete his last few tasks for the day.

~

Jazz waited nervously for the meeting he desperately didn't want to have. His only saving grace was that it was late enough almost no one was around to see him in this state. It would do nothing good for the troops to see their morale officer so down and out.

Still, he could have done with someone to talk with, to distract him from his own thoughts and the upcoming conversation. He didn't expect it would become a fight, Prowl was too calm for anything like that, but that was almost worse. Not fighting was one of those signs that the other didn't care, not that Jazz didn't already know there was no way Prowl actually liked him as anything more than the rare bethmates they were, if even that much.

Really it was better this way, Jazz tried to re-convince himself. They wouldn't have to perpetuate a lie and Prowl could have the chance to find someone he actually cared about rather than being tied down in any sort of relationship by necessity because of their sparkling.

His spark twisted painfully at the reminder he was cutting the little one's other creator from it's life but he had to hold firm. He was high enough in the chain of command to make the sparkling a massive target already; there was absolutely no need to compromise Prowl too. No matter how hard the creator coding opposed that thought.

"Jazz?"

He looked up to see the very mech occupying so many of his recent thoughts and forced a smile. "Hey. Go ahead an' take a seat. I've been waitin' fer ya."

When Prowl seemed to hesitate, Jazz continued talking if only to fill the silence. "I'da grabbed ya a cube but I didn' know how long ya'd be."

"My apologies," the tactician replied to the not so subtle inquiry. "Red Alert is often overzealous in his duties and occasionally even overruns my predicted time frames."

Jazz nodded along because they all knew how the Security Director could be and any topic that wasn't the one he had to bring up was a good one. Unfortunately his reprieve was short-lived.

"You said there was a matter we needed to discuss?"

"Yeah..." Jazz began slowly. "It's about our arrangement."

Prowl appeared confused for a klik before understanding touched his features. "You wish to propose a change?"

"Something like that," Jazz mumbled too softly for most bots to hear, gaining a curious flick from the sensor panels on his companion's back. Funny that, he'd never given much thought to what the various movements might mean but now all the little nuances were plain to see. It was a shame he hadn't noticed sooner so he could test and figure them out. After all, it wasn't likely Prowl would be bothered to spend any time with him after this.

Pushing down another wave of coding induced sadness and refusal, Jazz slowly came back to outside awareness and realized belatedly that Prowl had tried to call his attention again while he'd been lost in thought. 

"Are you alright, Jazz? You're acting oddly even for you."

"I'm fine," the saboteur replied, quickly throwing out a cover story. "Jus' tryin' ta figure out how ta word this best so yer not too upset."

"Upset about what?" Prowl repeated.

“B’cause we need ta stop,” Jazz managed to blurt out.

“Stop what?” The response held genuine confusion.

“This. Us.” Jazz made some vague gestures as he tried and seemingly failed at getting his point across. “Whatever ya wanna call what we’ve got goin’ on. I… It needs to end. I’m- I… It’s jus’ not what I need right now, a’right?”

“What brought this on?” Prowl asked after a klik. His tone was the same neutral even one as always and Jazz nearly shouted the truth at him just to get any actual reaction at all. He’d known better than to think Prowl would care about him, but to be so clearly not cared about hurt. Even beyond the carrier coding’s annoyance at being rejected by their sparkling’s sire. That just wasn’t supposed to happen, at all.

There followed almost a breem of silence but eventually Jazz managed to find other words to explain his situation.

“I can’ do this stray hook up thing anymore. I…It ain’t helpin’ my mental state and I need ta look fer somethin’ more stable.” Here, Prowl’s sensor panels gave a curious flick that Jazz couldn’t read but he didn’t try hard as he continued speaking. “I need ta find somethin’ with more permanence; someone I know will always be there fer me. ‘Specially after the bad missions.”

“And that’s just not me,” Prowl commented in response, a strange note to his vocal processes that Jazz couldn’t place through his sudden wave of self-hatred induced by the creator code for agreeing with a simple nod. “I suppose this is the end of our non-professional dealings then?”

“Yeah,” Jazz answered as he watched Prowl’s sensor wings vibrate in what could only be a highly restrained happiness. Which only cut his spark deeper the more he stopped to dwell on it. Of course Prowl would be happy to be rid of him; the idiot who went and got himself sparked up because he was willing to freely ‘face. How could he have considered that even the truth might have kept the other around? Just more of his stupidity rearing up after all.

Softly spoken words managed to draw him from his self-loathing, just long enough for the accompanying actions to shove him even further down.

“I’ll leave you be then,” Prowl said before rising, and when Jazz didn’t respond he turned and left.

Jazz remained where he was trying to collect himself as best as possible before not quite fleeing the Rec room, but only after just enough time had passed he could be sure he wouldn’t have to worry about running into Prowl again on the way to his room. It wasn’t a perfect plan but at this point his only real goal was trying to minimize the pain of what felt like his spark shattering.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And finally we get Prowl's feelings on the matter. Also more random Jazz stuff and the plot is still going nowhere fast because apparently the characters would rather live secluded in angstville. Oops?

Prowl managed to reach his office and get behind the closed door, which he locked without thinking, before the feelings he'd been holding back hit him. Harder even than he'd been expecting. At a loss, he let his frame sink to the floor as his field flashed and flickered in a tormented maelstrom of emotion.

There was no anger. They had entered into their agreement with no thoughts of permanence after all. And he'd always known it wasn't going to last. Jazz had his pick of anyone he wanted as a partner, and he was, well, himself. That Jazz had noticed him enough to take even a passing interest was astonishing.

Pain, hurt, came first. Even though he had known better, he couldn't help getting attached. They might not have been an actual couple but it had been nice to have someone who seemed to care. Even if it was only occasionally. It was still more than the never otherwise. And even beyond just having anyone, Jazz had a special charm all his own. It was impossible not to like the mech. He had known about that too but it was only now sinking in just how affected he was by it.

Despair followed. Jazz was the closest he could ever get to a relationship, as nonexistent as theirs had been. No one else could see past the rank and as such that meant he'd either be seen as taking advantage or risk being used. Neither was an acceptable option. Besides, there were so few who cared to learn the sensitive points on a frametype other than their own. Jazz's natural curiosity had been a major boon in that area.

Sadness replaced that. A general, all consuming sense of loss. While infrequent, Jazz's presence had become a welcomed intrusion into his life on those occasions. Especially meaningful for being so rare.

Next was self hate and shame because he'd let himself get caught in the illusion. He'd known better, he really had, and yet it happened anyway. He was weak and pathetic and ashamed of himself. It was no wonder no one wanted any sort of relationship with him. He might not be broken but this inability was just as bad; still just damaged goods with no real worth.

Sadness became self-loathing became embarrassment became spark-ache. Depression replaced situational aggravation replaced disappointment. Over and over these feelings and more swarmed him and Prowl just stayed there, lost in them. There had been a moment there, during the discussion with Jazz, where he'd thought they might have had a chance to become something more, something real. Oh, how stupid he'd been to think that.

He had no idea how long he sat there like that; jumping from one increasingly negative emotion to the next or whichever happened to overwhelm him. It was just too much for him; too much to handle, too much to think about, too much to deal with. 

He might have remained that way indefinitely if not for the incessant knocking on his door. As he reeled in his emotions and field to a reasonable state once more, the tactician realized he'd ignored repeated buzzes of his door chime. The Autobot Second in Command might have even considered simply continuing to ignore whoever was outside his office far after shift, if not for the worried voice that carried through the door.

"...in there, Prowl? I know you're probably working on something really important and I really shouldn't be bothering you but you did say I could come to you if I needed to and I had a really bad reflux and Blaster's on shift tonight so I can't ask him for help like I normally would and I was hoping you were being honest with your offer and if it would maybe be ok for me to recharge with you tonight if you don't mind?"

The younger Praxian was cut off from saying more when the door slid open but as soon as he saw Prowl, his wings dropped and he began anew. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt you in the middle of anything important and I can go now if that's what you want instead-"

"Bluestreak," Prowl said calmly, stopping the gunner from his plan of turning away. The older Praxian had managed to regather the majority of his composure, and while certainly not up to his usual standards, he would most certainly be able to handle this situation. He'd wallowed enough for the time being and now there was something required of him so he would rise to the task as he always did. "Of course you can join me. I was finished with my work already."

"Ok," the grey mech replied softly. "If you're really sure I'm not bothering you..."

"I am." This was said with a nod before the tactician stepped out of his office so the door could shut and lock. The young mech was surprisingly important to him, a shock even to himself at first, and he would never deny him anything so easily given. Only then did he begin the task of gently steering the younger towards his quarters. "Come along then."

"Of course, Prowl." Bluestreak followed easily, quickly cheering up a little bit because he got to spend time with the mech who had saved and subsequently helped raise and protect him. A mech he privately regarded as his pseudo-creator. The change was evident in his happy chatter as they walked, which Prowl was one of the few who never seemed to mind listening when he needed to talk. And if the one time he tried to ask about why Prowl seemed so sad and received a non-answer, well then it must be a classified reason and so Bluestreak would just leave it alone so they didn't get in any kind of trouble.

And if falling offline holding each other was a source of comfort for not just one, but both Praxians this time, well that just made it all the better that Bluestreak has frequent issues recharging alone.

~

Jazz, meanwhile, spent the night alone and awake, stressing. He had to decide on at least a semi-permanent partner for his sparkling, if only to be a donor. There were just too many choices though, and his coding was being no help at all. The best he could do was narrow his list to the ones it didn't outright reject. He could understand the reasons for most of those; extremely violent or reckless personalities wouldn't make for good, lasting donors. Others his coding didn't immediately reject were eventually ruled out by his processor instead for one reason or another.

Unfortunately, somehow every time he did that he ended up with a list of none. Or rather of two non-options. Optimus, but who would claim to be carrying the Prime's creation? And Prowl. Naturally that would defeat his original purpose to pick either of them and so Jazz was stuck back at square one. A few more tries, attempts at being far more lenient, still garnered the same results and finally he was forced to switch tactics.

His next idea was to rank them from least undesirable down but found himself unable to make proper comparisons. It was rather like trying to compare alloygators and turbofoxes in a flying contest. The saboteur only tried once more on that idea before giving up with a deep ex-vent.

Highgrade sounded like a wonderful idea right now but there was no way he was touching the stuff. Especially not so early in his carrying. The excess, fluctuating, charge was extremely dangerous to a newly formed spark because it interfered with the stabilization process. Even a halfway developed sparkling could be harmed by excess high grade but they became extremely energy starved at that point and would suck in any and all excess energy from their carrier. That was the point when spark merging was an almost ornly requirement for carriers.

He definitely needed to find someone steady before that point. That thought caused Jazz to fling the datapad he'd been working on at the wall across the room in renewed annoyance. Frag! How stupid could he be to let himself get sparked? And by a mech he had no chance of a future with at that!

It just wasn't fair, he mused as the spy sank onto his berth again. Creating should be a happy event. Instead he stood to lose everything if anyone learned and didn't even have a partner to help him out. This wasn't how things were supposed to go, and if he didn't find someone before anyone else found out then he was risking Prowl figuring it out and others finding out. No one would believe the Second in Command would care for a sparkling that wasn't his...

Jazz ex-vented deeply again and kicked back on his berth to think some more and try to reevaluate his options. In the end though all he came up with was nothing; flirt around and see who was willing to accept his passes and hope someone was willing to start something lasting.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short chapter but I'm having issues wording anything and this is the best I could get this chapter to work for the feel I wanted from it.
> 
> Also, you know who you are, yes I am still working on that plot we talked about but my timeline decided to scramble itself so I need time to play with it and figure out the rearrangement that will work best. Might have to write the entire thing and see how best the pieces fit together...

Time came and went.

Battles came and went.

Mission plans came and went.

As much as the sparkache said otherwise, as much as he may have wanted it to, life didn't just stop happening because of such a simple thing. 

Except it wasn't so simple, even though it was. They may not have been much but their arrangement had been stable. If that was really what Jazz wanted then why had he ended it? It wasn't as though he had anyone now. At least, not that Prowl had noticed and Jazz certainly wasn't the sort to not be overly showy in a relationship.

Shaking his helm in a vain attempt to clear his processor, Prowl tried to focus again on the report he was reading. No good news, but it never was, and thankfully no truly bad news. Except if it has been then he would have had to focus, perhaps even run the data through his battle computer, and that way he could at least forget the pain for a short while.

~

If it didn't hurt so much, it would be hilarious the amount of additional work Jazz was putting in to avoid him. Approved plans would vanish from his desk, only to later be replaced by datapads of enemy intel. Mission proposals and battle reports consistently appeared in his locked office. Jazz was even filing all paperwork to Prowl's own perfect, exacting standards so he had no excuse to comm or seek him out.

That Jazz even knew the standards well enough to mimic them would have been laughable in any other situation. Here and now though? It only caused Prowl's spark to ache just a little bit more with every perfect report...

~

Prowl wasn't sure what he'd done to cause Jazz such ire but the mech refused to share a room with him at all. If they happened to occupy the same hallway, Jazz would turn and return the way he came or take whatever the nearest escape route was. And should Prowl happen to enter the Rec Room while Jazz was there, the spy would be gone before he even reached the Energon dispenser. It was often enough masked as leaving with whoever he was speaking with, but never failed to happen. And sometimes Jazz would even cut short conversations with his friends just to leave if Prowl stayed longer than the couple kliks it took to collect a cube.

In fact, the only time they ever were in the same room long was for those officer meetings that Jazz absolutely couldn't avoid. Even then, he'd show up last (but never late because that would risk a disciplinary meeting) and be the first one gone. 

~

Officer meetings were excruciating. Having him so close and yet so far. It could never work though. They were too different. The chasm was only made wider by their separation. But oh how he wished otherwise...

~

It was so strange, Jazz couldn't help noticing, that now that he didn't want to see him, Prowl seemed to be everywhere. It was like the more he tried to avoid him, the more he happened to be in the same place at the same time. Of course there was always the thought that Prowl was intentionally doing so, but that would require the mech to dedicate too much time and processor power just to tracking his own movements. So yeah, that wasn't it at all. No matter what his traitorous coding was telling his spark.

It had gotten so bad that every time he was talking to someone, especially a new potential partner, Prowl would somehow be there. In the Rec Room at least it was understandable, but in any random corridor too? And it grew ever more frequent. Luckily, the bots he picked for his later attempted relationships had been willing enough to move their conversation when he brought the idea up...

~

In any other context it would be hilarious how much effort he was putting in to avoid Prowl. Hacking the Second-in-Command's office lock consistently, just to drop off or pick up messages when the Praxian wasn't around. Leaving collected 'Con info after stealing a successfully planned mission, just to avoid a debriefing. He was even making sure his own reports were perfectly formatted and whatnot so Prowl didn't have that reason to come looking for him.

Yes, any other time it would have made for a great laugh. And not in the least for the realization he actually knew the exact way Prowl liked his reports formatted. Here and now though, it hurt too much to even think about the mech, much less deal with him long. Even the officer meetings he couldn't avoid were impossibly painful. That fragging coding made his spark positively ache when he saw the other, and even more so because they couldn't be together. It was all the more reason to find a permanent partner soon.

~

Leaving Blaster's quarters with a frown, Jazz couldn't help his spark sinking further. The host mech was a close friend and generally up for a good frag, plus he had a collection of little ones himself so it shouldn't have been so hard to convince the mech. Unfortunately the red bot was adamantly opposed to spark sharing, a detail Jazz had never had reason to notice before, because host frames were notorious for getting sparked up from even one merge. Not something he'd known either, yet incredibly ironic.

He did feel guilty, he could admit to himself, at even the idea of tricking his friend that way but there was nothing to be done about it. All his other options had fallen through for one reason or another and he'd had to try friends. Except none of them were interested in anything more permanent than a night or two.

Jazz's path led to the Rec Room so he could grab a cube before heading back to his own quarters. He downed half of it in one drink and refilled it while no one was looking his way before turning his own attention on the room. There had to be someone he hadn't asked yet, right? Except, as he glanced around he couldn't spot a one. He had to fight down the growl and flare of pain in his spark at the realization. That couldn't be. He couldn't be out of options! Except he was...

Lost in his thoughts he almost missed overhearing the conversation of a couple passing mechs debating the new transfers that would be arriving soon. That was the best news he'd heard all orn. There had to be someone in that group who wouldn't either want just a one time deal or reject him outright. Right? He just had to hold on for a while longer as potential partners came and went.

And missions came and went.

And battles came and went.

And time came and went.


	6. Chapter 6

Admittedly it wasn't his best idea. Oh sure, he'd had plenty worse in the past; that time in his youth when he thought teal and orange would work well together for example. Or that one dance move that had dislocated an arm and his t-cog, that he'd only tried in order to impress a racer he'd been interested in and later learned was already bonded.

So yeah, crawling through the vents of one of the Decepticons' main strongholds searching for thier Energon stores even though it wasn't his assigned mission was not his worst idea by far. But it was definitely high on the list. 

To be fair, it could have been a lot worse. He had made sure to complete his actual mission, data retrieval and virus upload, first and there was still plenty of time before he had to reach the rendezvous point. Plus, if asked he could always claim either general sabotage or an attempt to steal more fuel for the Autobots. Neither were strictly true, but no one else had to know that detail.

The truth was, he shouldn't even be on this, or any, mission. And not only because he was carrying by itself, but the carrying process was draining his energy reserves far faster than it should have. Already his intake had increased four times over and he'd only kept this secret because Spec Ops kept their own stockpile of Energon cubes. Plus each agent tended to keep some hidden away too, just in case. Unfortunately, he'd already run his own reserves dry and made a soon-to-be noticeable dent in the the general Ops stash. Hence the need to plunder Energon from the Decepticons. Sure, it'd be easier and much less risk to pilfer from his own base, but that would put the Autobots on edge once someone noticed. And between Red Alert and Prowl, someone would certainly notice sooner rather than later.

The temporary drifting of his thoughts ended with a sharp pang in his spark and Jazz nearly lost his grip on the walls of the ventilation shaft. 'Stupid!' he thought, chastising himself, as he waited and listened intently to find out if any of the Decepticons were close. He'd not made much noise, but it would have been more than enough to get caught if anyone was paying attention. Thankfully few Decepticons ever did actually pay attention, even on guard duty, and none of the few who would be were stationed in this base. Jazz only waited a few kliks before deciding it was safe enough to move on. 

The store room wasn't actually accessible from the ventilation system itself but the saboteur has planned his exit at the closest possible interval to minimize the risk of being seen. A bit of pathetically easy hacking took out any chance of the camera noticing him, leaving it so he could only be found if anyone physically caught him in the act. Not something that happened when he wasn't expecting it. From there it was exceedingly easy to bypass the simple code used to keep the average soldier from supplementing their rations. Exactly the thing he was planning to do.

Once inside it was quick work to grab as many cubes as he could carry. It amounted to less than he'd hoped to collect and still left the Decepticons with a reasonable stock (and if they had so much why did all the mechs on this base act undercharged anyway?) but he could only take what he could subspace. Getting out would be fun enough without bogging down his servos.

The saboteur was just toying with the idea of sending in a team just for Energon retrieval (or perhaps dropping a note about this stockpile in his report to Prowl) when something pressed against the back of his helm. Immediately he cursed himself mentally again. Letting his focus slip on the job was a terribly amateurish move and now he was paying for that stupidity. It didn't take much to determine it was a gun of some sort and Jazz could only hope that it wasn't one of the less stupid 'Cons holding it.

Thankfully, his luck seemed to be balancing itself out. When the other mech spoke Jazz was able to identify him as a member of one of the secondary Seeker trines, though he wouldn't know which without a look at coloration. Not only did that mean he was lacking a bit in the processor department, but it also gave Jazz the beginnings of a plan that he could only hope would work out.

"What're you doing, Autobot?"

Jazz turned slowly, cautiously aware that he might still be shot any nanoklik. "Jus' gettin' some fuel. We're kinda low back at my base." He held up the cube still in his grasp to show off as if it were the first he'd picked up. Hopefully the Seeker, Ramjet he saw now, hadn't been around long enough to see him stash the others in his subspace. "But seein' as I can tell I'm unwanted, I'll just go."

"You're not going anywhere. Move and I'll shoot."

"Nah... I think if ya were gonna ya'd have done it by now. An' b'sides," the spy drew out the pause as he studied the Seeker. "Ya wouldn't wanna bring ole Screamer's wrath down on yerself."

"How would slagging an Autobot do that? You've gotta be glitched."

"Prob'bly, but not the way yer thinkin'," Jazz agreed. Though tempted to raise the other's ire further, getting shot was not on the list of experiences he wanted today. "Don'cha pay attention ta yer coding? I'm carryin' and Screamer said s'long as I don't hurt any a' ya Seekers that ya'll hafta deal with him if ya hurt me."

Ramjet studied him for what felt like joors but couldn't have actually been more than a klik or two. "You don't deserve a creation if you're so stupid to carry and still sneak around in enemy bases," the Seeker sneered. "The sparkling won't survive if you get yourself offlined."

"Ya think I don' know that?" Jazz snapped back before he could stop himself. "S'why I'd appreciate if ya lower that thing an' jus lemme walk away. I don' wanna have ta fight ya an' I'm pretty sure ya don' wanna risk makin' my sparkling separate early."

When Ramjet didn't respond, Jazz took a hesitant step towards the door. He was being carefully watched and the blaster was still aimed at him, but the Seeker didn't seem inclined to actually shoot. Not yet anyway. "Look, I'll even leave this behind an' we can pretend I was never here."

"Just take it," the flyer commented as the saboteur set the solitary cube on a nearby pile. He recieved a curious look in response before changing it to an order. "No, drink it now. Where I can see. He'll have my wings if I let a carrier go with such low energy levels."

Jazz hesitated for a moment, but he really was starting to feel the effects of the power drain now that he'd stopped moving, thereby allowing Ops energy conservation protocols to fall into standby. Or so he tried to convince himself. Under the watchful optic of the Seeker, Jazz downed the Energon in one go, steady but not overly fast.

"Happy now?" he asked even as the light buzz of being newly re-energized hit his systems.

"Go." The command was dead panned but at least the gun was pointed up now. "And don't get yourself caught and waste my efforts."

Jazz obliged, slipping past the Seeker and out the door once he was sure it was safe. Although what effort the other mech had put in to assist his escape was beyond him as the flyer didn't even leave the store room. Nevertheless, it wasn't the saboteur's problem to worry about anymore. All he had to do now was get out and make the rendezvous point and really the only tricky part was getting back into the vent system. Miraculously he still had just enough time to make it. If he gunned his engines a bit once outside.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moved last week (to such a small town no one offers free wifi signals so I did all this on my phone) and don't have actual Internet access yet so this is short and kinda pathetic as well as late but I wanted to get something up. I'll do a proper revision on it later in the week when I have use of my laptop since it's not even spellchecked or edited yet.

"Not that I'm complaining, 'cause it's always better with a native and you ain't half bad looking besides, but why'd you ask me?" Smokescreen sat up as he asked the question, slowly as his processor was still a bit hazy after the last overload. His attention remained on his silent black and white berth partner until the mech finally answered.

"I couldn't focus on work so I needed a distraction to clear my mind. I've found an occasional interface to be surprisingly helpful with that." The answer was clean-cut and simple, just as the tactician tended to make anything seem. "As to why you; as you said, it's always better with someone familiar with our frame type. Plus you've never had a problem with a casual interface."

"True," the more colorful mech replied, seeming to draw the word out without actually doing so. "And that's always worked for us, hasn't it?"

It was an attempted probing question and Prowl remained silent so Smokescreen continued on. "'Course you'll have to find someone else next time. I'm getting transferred soon."

"I didn't know about that."

"Really have been distracted then," Smokescreen mused out loud to no answer.

Silence fell between them for several long kliks before the blue and red Praxian spoke again.

"You should try Jazz."

Prowl's response was an utterly inelegant, "what?"

"If you're looking for a quick 'face while I'm gone. He'd probably accept. It ain't quite as good as someone who actually knows your frametype but he's a pretty quick study and has been all over the planet before it went to the Pit. I'll even let him know you're a decent frag in case it was that and not your personality that kept him from propositioning you already."

"Enough. You're being highly disrespectful of not one, but two senior officers. You do not just spread stories about anyone's private life and you most certainly do not falsely accuse any officer of sleeping around."

"Are you kidding? It's not like it's any sort of secret even. He's been with nearly everyone stationed long term on base and probably half this decaorn's transfers already. I've not done anything with him personally but I think he's afraid I'll try and psychoanalyze him instead."

When Prowl didn't argue, or respond at all, Smokescreen took it as an offer for him to keep going. "Word has it he likes anything but it seems he's most interested in being spiked. Doesn't seem the type to prefer it but I got my sources and I ain't going to complain 'cause it's so rare to find someone who likes ridding.

"Hey, where are you goin'?"

Only belatedly had Smokescreen noticed that Prowl was no longer on the berth, instead crossing the room now towards the door. His answer came just before it slid open and was so typical there was no reason to question it.

"I need to get back to work."

Of course that wasn't actually where he was headed and once the door shut, Prowl set about trying to determine the most likely locations of a certain saboteur. Said mech was the very reason he had even sought out Smokescreen to begin with and any temporary relief he'd gained had been negated as soon as Jazz was mentioned. Now, with this new information, he had to find the other black and white and give him a piece of his processor. Lies were a dangerous game and it was about time someone taught him to be more careful about using them.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not what I typically do; updating the same fic in a row, but apparently we can't have Internet installed until the end of the month and the muses decided this is where they intend to focus. Good for the readers though because this is where the action picks up and there's gonna be a few cliffhanger chapters...

Jazz lay on the berth in his quarters in an impeccable impression of lounging but really he was far from it. The speed his thoughts were racing was matched only by the want and slight charge tearing through his circuits. The mech he'd been propositioning had promised all sorts of fun. After the patrol shift he had then headed off for, leaving an irritating itch that the spy just could not handle. Sure, he could have found another to sate him until then, the incessant desire to interface never faded longer than a few joor, but word would get around that he couldn't wait even that long and he did have some reputation to maintain.

An especially strong twinge in his valve had Jazz nearly arching his back off the berth in need and he almost stopped caring about his reputation. Almost.

Instead, he snapped back the cover to his valve and had his digits inside the astrosecond he could. Even the slightest touch was like lightning, increasing the charge in his system tenfold as he pumped in and out of himself. Two digits weren't enough for anything though and even three only managed so much. He had to add a fourth and the stretch was almost enough. As he continued impaling himself, the spy had to continually shift and spread his digits in every attempt to stimulate as many sensor nodes as possible. Even then, it wasn't until his thoughts slipped and he started to imagine the touch inside himself belonged to another, timed with a stroke that hit as deep as he could reach, that he finally found the relief he sought and overload crashed over him with a cry.

The staticky haze had barely cleared his processor when he felt more than heard the tiny voice that spoke from his spark chamber. \ _More?_ \

\ _No more_ \ Jazz responded with a hint of irritation. This wasn't the first time his creation had managed to communicate with him so while the awe was still there the shock had worn off and he was too annoyed for it to not seep through just a little. \ _You can wait until later._ \

\ _Want more_ \ the sparkling responded with a fair mimic of Jazz's shown irritation. Even if he weren't carrying there would be no doubt this one was his. And then the sparkling changed tracks. \ _Want sire. When sire here?_ \

\ _He won't be_ \ Jazz answered.

\ _Why?_ \ the inquisitive youngspark would not be so easily deterred. \ _Sire not like me?_ \

\ _No. Your sire doesn't even know you exist._ \

\ _Why?_ \

\ _It's safer for you that way._ \

\ _Why?_ \

\ _Because it is. Besides, your sire doesn't even like me._ \

\ _Why?_ \

\ _I don't know._ \

\ _Oh._ \ The sparkling was silent for all of half a nanoklik before, \ _need energy._ \

Jazz sighed softly as he stood to collect a cube of Energon. It wasn't the best solution but the only accessible one he had presently. He'd barely downed it (the entire cube, long past his irritation that he consumed twice as much per sitting than he usually did in a whole orn) when his sparkling spoke again. \ _Want sire._ \

Pouting, the newspark then faded into silence before Jazz could reply, but not before causing a painful lurch in his spark. It was enough the saboteur had to catch his balance on the wall as he'd been heading back to the berth.

It had terrified him the first time it happened, but now Jazz knew that was just how the little one expressed displeasure. The first time though, he'd been so terrified then that he'd almost gone to a medic before his senses caught up to him. Instead he'd hacked the basic medical database for information later that night. Thankfully it had everything he'd needed because trying to access any higher medical files would have set Ratchet on him nearly instantly.

Reclining back, Jazz tried to focus internally to try and talk with his creation more. Just because it sometimes hurt was no reason he shouldn't still be ecstatic that his newspark was so far along and developing well, if a little behind traditional schedule. (It was bound to happen with no steady spark energy donor after all.) And besides, it wasn't really all that painful.

Before he could begin though, his comm line buzzed to announce someone at the door. Deciding to wait whoever it was out and pretend he wasn't around, Jazz ignored the message. Though that does little good when the mech spoke through his door.

"Open up, Jazz."

That voice and those words, spoken often in much more suggestive situations, had the spy's tempered arousal flaring again. Oh how it would feel to throw open the door, pull the mech inside and just give himself over completely. To have the tactician's servos touch and stroke anywhere and everywhere on his frame before those talented digits began probing inside him, drawing him to the crest of the first of what he hoped would always be numerous overloads. How it would feel when he pushed in that lovely spike that always filled him so completely. Pressing against and stimulating all the deepest and most sensitive sensors...

Jazz only barely muted his vocalizer in time as he fell into another overload from thoughts alone. The gush of fluids along his legs reminding him he'd never cleaned up nor closed his panel and he quickly turned to that task.

It wasn't long before his thoughts drifted though. One of the things he loved most about coupling with Prowl was just how well they fit together and how willing the other was to meet any desire he had, but this? Sure, it was always amazing and would surely be absolute bliss right now but did he have to feel that way so strongly?

Of course, that was only more reason to keep the door shut and locked down until he could be sure he wouldn't act like an idiot and reveal all his secrets. At least it seemed like Prowl had left but he wasn't foolish enough to check so soon.

As he finished the quick clean up there was a rap on the door itself. No one did that unless the situation was important but the voice that followed was still who he expected. "I know you're in there, Jazz. Open the door or I will find my own way in."

So Red Alert was in on it. That actually made sense. The two were friends in the best way either could seem to handle friends, but the threat only served to anger Jazz. He latched onto the emotion quickly though; angry he could face Prowl without trying to 'face Prowl. It was really best for everyone if he honestly couldn't avoid whatever conversation was coming.

Stalking to the door, after a quick check to be sure he had closed up, he palmed it open and leveled an unamused look at the tactician. "What do you want?"

"We need to talk." Prowl met Jazz's heated temper with his own icy one.

"Right," Jazz returned. Stepping out so the door could shut behind him, the spy crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. There was no one in the hallway and he didn't intend to reveal any delicate information so he wasn't about to invite him in. If Prowl wanted to talk it would happen right here. "What about?"

"You."

"Oh?" Though it was along the lines of what he'd expected, it was still a shock to hear the other cut to the core so immediately. "What about me?"

Prowl's audible exvent likely wasn't entirely for show. "Why don't we start with your recent actions and behaviors that are entirely unbefitting for a mech of your rank."

"What d'ya mean by that?"

"For one, your sudden desire to tear through the ranks and frag anything with a spark pulse."

Oh, so he'd finally heard about that. Jazz knew immediately just how bad this conversation was going to go now but he couldn't get a word in as Prowl continued.

"For another, you've been shirking shifts and turning up late to the few you do show up for. Not to mention that your missions seem to nearly always run longer than they're planned for and should take. And on a different point-"

"Look, mech." Jazz had finally had enough and cut in. "What, or who, I choose to do in my private life is exactly that. Private. Ain't yer business how I choose to spend my free time."

"It is everyone's concern when that free time coincides with time you should be working."

"Just 'cause I don' keep regular hours or work in my office like you don' mean I ain't still workin'. My schedule's just... a bit more fluid than most. An' my missions are just as flawless as ever."

"Then why," if it were possible (and apparently it was) Prowl's tone got even colder, "are you taking several extra joor, to the point of an orn or longer, after the projected return time to report in?"

"Ya do notice I've been fin'ly writin' those silly reports yer obsessed over, right?" It was crazy to mock him more but Jazz harbored no illusion that he would make it out of this conversation unscathed anyway so he might as well return the favor. "That stuff don' write fast an' they sure don' deliver themselves. 'Course ya always manage to be outta yer office when I am ready to turn 'em in so that forces me to hafta get creative."

"So you break into my office rather than waiting or even attempting to locate me? And not just once but you proceed to do so continually. That's hardly worthy of being called creative."

"M'be not after the first or secon' time but cut me some slack here. There ain't much ya leave yerself open for an' there ain't many tricks I got that don' involve someone dyin'."

"And locating me to deliver them personally is such a hardship on you?"

"'Course. An' a waste a' time when I can just hack yer door in a nanoklik an' drop 'em off instead.'

The Praxian gave a wing twitch that Jazz knew to be aggravated and so he kept pushing. "Look, if this is yer way a' showin' displeasure at what happened b'tween us, I'd appreciate if ya back off. Tha's over an' done and in the past an' I wanna keep it that way."

"This has nothing to do with that," Prowl replied coolly but the sensor panels on his back hiked up a bit higher. "This is about you and the condition you're keeping yourself in and it's negative impact on the entire army." To prevent allowing Jazz any opening, he slid right along without pause. "Your work **has** been slipping and you've been avoiding almost everyone. Don't even try to start with how you have been spending your time because that's a null point and you know it. You've neglected your friends in the name of a few conquests."

Jazz had the decency to look mildly chastised at that.

"Blaster has been asking around about you. Optimus, Ratchet, even myself. He wanted to convince us to lighten your duty load because he thinks you can't handle it."

The saboteur risked a studying glance at Prowl when he paused now and what he found made him almost as angry as the tactician's following commentary.

"Now that I've actually seen you, I have to agree with him. Clearly you can't handle your current work load and what would it do to moral to have a senior officer collapsing randomly?

"You look as though you haven't recharged in a few decaorn and you're likely so exhausted you're using that wall just to stay upright."

Oh now that was it! Shoving off the wall before he'd completely decided what to do, Jazz stalked forward until their frames were all but touching. "And just who are you to lecture me on the very sort of thing you subject yourself to? Don't think I don' know how many night cycles you spend in that office of yours. Or all the times ya only refuel b'cause someone brings it to ya an' all but force it down yer intakes."

Prowl seemed flustered by that reveal (he must have thought he was hiding it or something) so Jazz pressed his temporary advantage.

"Lemme explain somethin' to ya. I'm built an' trained to handle those sort'a conditions. Ya aren't. I know well what the limits a' my frame are an' how long I can push myself. You don't. Ya don' know my limits an' prob'ly not yer own either. So do us both a favor an' leave the monitoring to the ones that do know.

"An' fer another thing. I think I've been holdin' up amazing, all thin's considered. It ain't e'ry orn-"

The rest of his sentence was drowned out by a base-wide siren.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny chapter again but better than nothing and this is the point I would want to leave you all hanging anyway. Enjoy. *smirks*

Their attempted conversation-become-fight was interrupted by the loud and sufficiently shrill enough to rouse any and all 'Bots alarm's shriek.

"Decepticon attack," Prowl acknowledged immediately as he pushed past Jazz, who didn't fight it. He only got a few steps before turning back to grab the spy's arm and pull him along. "Are you coming?"

"Ya gonna let me?" Jazz sniped back. He was still partially lost in trying to track down the thought he had nearly shared and lock it far from his vocalizer.

"You are still on active duty," the tactician answered as he continued to lead Jazz along. "And have not yet exhibited any decisive signs of being unfit by which I could remove you, so, regardless of how bad an idea I find it to be, your presence is still expected."

"Glad ta hear ya expect me ta offline myself."

Prowl didn't bother to dignify that quip and they remained silent as they made their way to join the rest of the troops and take up their respective roles. 

~

The battle wasn't quite on their doorstep, but it wasn't too far off and would definitely reach that point shortly of something wasn't done. So the Autobots were fighting as fiercely as they could to protect their base, and of course their Prime. Unfortunately however, in the midst of directing troops and fielding questions to the appropriate commanders while a battle communications line was secured, Prowl managed to lose track of Jazz. It wasn't something he typically did, keeping track of the other, but this time it had seemed necessary. Naturally though, Jazz was thwarting his plans as the mech often did. How any one individual could be so impossible...

The tone of an incoming comm pulled his focus back completely to the situation at hand, although he left a subthread in his processor to searching out signs of Jazz still even as he answered.

: _Updates?_ :

: _We need reinforcements for sector five; delta team is down._ :

Prowl sent off the relocation orders for another team to move and assist before even replying to the commander on his comm. : _Acknowledged, ETA two kliks._ :

: _Understood. We'll hold them off as best we can until then._ :

The line closed after that, though it was far from silent. That was of no concern to him however and Prowl effortlessly shifted his main focus back to his surroundings and the battle. Events were progressing remarkably well for their side this time; the Decepticons had yet to actually break the frontline and the Autobots had seemingly only just suffered their first lost lives. Now if only he could locate one particular mech and be certain of his condition.

"PRIME!"

The title was roared from the other side of the battlefield, by none other than the Decepticon leader, Megatron himself. Looking over, the sight that greeted him was almost enough of a shock to lock up his processor.

"Surrender now or lose one of your precious lieutenants."

~

He had the processorache of all existence after his sudden but hardly unexpected contact with the ground; an obvious result from being swatted off of a combined geshalt team. Didn't make it hurt any Pit slagging less to see it coming though.

An exceedingly loud noise from above him forced the saboteur to focus outward again and after a far longer time than he would ever admit to, the scenario he found himself in could hardly be worse. He was staring, quite literally, up the barrel of Megatron's fusion cannon.

Said warlord spoke again but Jazz couldn't focus on the words as the weapon began to power up. Even if he could move quick enough to avoid point blank range, the effects were still felt for some distance and he wasn't that fast. Apparently this was his end, and the only thing he could think was to be grateful he'd pulled himself up off the ground so at least he wasn't going to be deactivated lying down.

"So be it Prime. His offlining shall be on your servos."

And then the barrel lowered to aim at his chest and the world vanished in a flash as the fusion cannon was fired.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short and not exactly what I set out to write but it turned out well enough, I should hope, so enjoy.

Heat.

Invasive and oppressive. 

At first all he could register, for what felt like an eternity, was the overwhelming temperature. And there was nothing he could do. It was that kind of heat where even trying to vent is useless because as hot as his frame was, the atmosphere around him was even worse. There was no pain yet but that was deceptive. He could just feel his plating warping and melting and his internals frying as he heard a couple pops.

And then… 

Then he felt a strange, blessed rush of cool surrounding him. This must be the Well, he mused. Jazz spared a moment to reflect on the loss of lives before voices caught his attention. Slowly he onlined his optics in time to see a black and purple mass disappear. 

"Take care of him, medic, or else."

Medic? Even as he wondered, Jazz was turning his helm to look around and he found Ratchet. Who looked angry. Oh frag. Not the Well then, this could only be the Pit.

~

There was only a crater left after his shot. A small one, but still a crater. Nothing at all was left of the Autobot. A rare occurrence but he'd vaporized entire frames before and most of those were at a wider distance too.

It was in that crater that Starscream landed. A hard, fast landing at a speed that shouldn't have been possible unless he fell out of the sky. And that was all he had time to process before the Seeker turned.

He'd only barely begun his vocalizer, and still didn't know what he was going to say, but when Starscream turned to look at him, he stopped. His Second had never worn that expression before. The Seeker was positively livid and Megatron knew he was in for something horrific.

~

Prowl could only stand and stare as the scene unfolded. Thankfully, or not, that was all anyone seemed able to do. Autobot and Decepticon alike had all turned to watch as Megatron powered his fusion cannon. To watch as he fired on the victim immediately in front of him. To watch as Jazz met his end.

A brilliant flash of light flared for an impossibly long few nanokliks before fading away to reveal the terrible aftermath. No frame nor even parts were left for any semblance of proper funeral rites. Just a gaping hole in the ground where the former Autobot Third in Command had just recently stood. The only testament to an impressive life ended in such a horrible, horrible way. 

Logically, Prowl knew now was no time to stand frozen in place but he just couldn't make his frame move around the pain in his spark. Pain due not only to the loss of yet another Autobot, but one he had liked who had liked him as well. Even for their recent conflict, he and Jazz had still maintained a certain respect for one another; something he'd not found in many others. Yet, just that thought made him feel guilty because so many others could actually call Jazz a friend and had to be feeling his offlining so much more acutely. Like Mirage, who only Jazz had befriended for several vorns after the noble joined the army. Or Optimus, who had known him from before the war and his upgrades, and who was the Prime as well so every loss cut to his spark.

As he (and the majority of both armies) watched, Starscream dropped from the sky to land right in front of Megatron. Anger rolled off the Seeker so potently that Prowl could almost feel it from across the battlefield and when the warlord noticed even he gave pause, mouth open as though about to speak. Everyone strained to hear what the Decepticon Second in Command would say, but there was no struggle once his vocalizer started up.

"You Pit-spawned, fragged up glitch," the Seeker began, relatively calmly though his voice carried across the entire battlefield. "Do you even have any idea what you've just done, you twisted spark of a defective motherboard?"

Megatron's response was too soft to hear where Prowl was but whatever he said only enraged Starscream further. The Seeker was practically quivering and it seemed nearly impossible that he hadn't physically lashed out at his own leader yet. Instead, he simply stood there leveling a glare that should have melted anything it touched. Behind Megatron, Skywarp popped into existence but the warlord only had focus on Starscream as he continued.

"I've put up with a lot from you. Too much, in fact. But this? This we will not stand for. Do you remember anything I told you about Seekers when we joined?

"No, of course you don't." Starscream continued without letting Megatron speak as Dirge landed after Thundercracker, one on either side of the warlord. "We don't need much; access to the sky, Energon and fellow Seekers for company. We'll even keep ourselves in line. Our chain of command is unbreakable and orders are always followed, even yours if they are deemed worthwhile. We are the best soldiers Cybertron has ever seen but even we have limits. And the murdering of sparklings is something we will not tolerate."

Finally Megatron had a chance to speak and he took it, roaring at his Second while Thrust landed beside Skywarp behind him. "Have you finally lost that glitched processor of yours, Starscream? That mech was no sparkling. He was an Autobot even before the war!"

"I wasn't talking about the Autobot," Starscream shouted back. "I was talking about the other spark in his chamber."

That made the Decepticon leader pause in his tracks, as well as many others, as he realized the implications. His next response was again too quiet to hear although Starscream's really could offer a few guesses. "Of course you didn't know! You never care to know anything that doesn't immediately suit your purposes. And now… "

Ramjet, the flyer furthest away, had finally arrived and landed almost beside Starscream as the lead Seeker finished. "As Winglord and Air Commander of Vos and Cybertron, I now condemn you for your crime. For the attempted deactivation of a carrier and newspark, every Seeker present is allowed to tear into you as they see fit short of deactivation."

And that was all the signal the rest of the flyers needed before Megatron was lost under a sea of claws and wings. A retreat order came shortly after, issued by Soundwave who even sounded a slight bit unsteady. That got most of the Decepticons moving, leaving the battleground before the Autobots could take charge in the midst of the Decepticon command structure collapse. Now would most certainly be the time to press what advantage they could get, but Prowl had other thoughts in his processor. Besides, the likelihood of anyone actually giving chase after what had occurred was minimal at best.

Making his way to Optimus, Prowl only spoke when he reached his commander. "We should fall back as well, sir. There's nothing we can do about that," he tilted his helm in the direction of the Seeker pile, "situation and this way our injured can be safely treated. In case the Decepticons return for what remains of their leader."

The Prime gave an absent nod as he forced his attention away from the spectacle. "Autobots," he began, forlornly, "let's return to base."

Bots were just starting to move when a comm came in from Ratchet. Both commanders accepted it and opened the line to listen.

_:I'm gonna need you, Optimus. He's online but I am not letting the glitch move around on his own accord so get yourself over here.:_

_:Understood, Ratchet. I'm on my way.:_


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally. The chapter everyone's been waiting for. Enjoy. ^-^

The mech was a stubborn glitch, he'd give him that much credit. Definitely a survivor, although it seemed to be dumb luck more than intelligence.

Pit! He made Skywarp look like a genius some days!

And Ratchet made sure to inform his patient of such. Not that the mech could hear him, being in medical stasis, but the medic needed to rant and rave as he worked. Even if his desired target was presently inaccessible.

There were few physical injuries to attend to; some warped plating besides a few bumps and dents from earlier in the battle. Of course the glitch couldn't just go and only get himself wrecked physically. Physical injuries were the easiest to treat after all. No, the idiot of a carrier had to go and nearly over-strain his own spark. It was obvious he'd not been getting enough energy. Especially for a mech with such strong carrier coding. Any energy he took in went first to the newspark and then to himself. Usually not an issue in and of itself but that was for normal carriers. Civilian carriers. Bots who worked simple, non-taxing jobs or who would stay home and relax while carrying. Not the fragging glitch in charge of the most dangerous crew in the army! Honestly, the only way the underclocked slag heap could have put himself in more danger would be if he were a Wrecker!

Ratchet slammed his tool down on the table beside the med-berth before shutting his patient's chestplates. And if he did so a little more violently than he strictly needed to, well, it would serve the fragger right for causing this whole mess. Really, achy chestplating was the least of his worries when he woke up. Which would be soon as his frame decided to online with the medical stasis now lifted. Meanwhile, Ratchet needed to speak with the rest of the command staff so they were all apprised of the situation. Then after, he had a project of his own to look into.

~~

In the end, Ratchet decided to stop by and speak with Prowl alone first. Most of the biggest problems could be solved just with his assistance. A quick (sometimes too quick) processor paired with the strong understanding of right and wrong gave him a long-term view of everything that made even the most questionable choices at the time make perfect sense later. Together they could pick out the best solutions to explain to the others later. Besides, the tactician's own coding seemed intact last he'd known and Ratchet needed the backup on this issue. Not only was the newspark far enough along that termination could destabilize Jazz, the medic couldn't even bring himself to consider doing such. It would oppose _every_ thing his oaths stood for to end a life before it began. Thankfully, Praxus as a whole was second only to Vos in concern for the welfare of sparklings.

~~

The anticipated command staff meeting to deal with the sparkling question somehow hadn't been a disaster.

He and Prowl hadn't perfected their defense when it began and there was opposition to creating during a war (mainly from Ironhide, because of the dangers, and Red Alert, who hated any change because it ruined his security systems.) But in the end the Prime had sided with them that the newspark was not to be terminated. What would happen to it after separation, however, still remained to be seen. There was also the question of the sire. Who was it? Were they still in his life? Did they intend to be? Does the sire know? Does Jazz even know yet?

Ratchet had his doubts about the last one but kept them silent as he was asked to reveal all he'd been able to determine. Yes, the sparkling was healthy. No, there had been no grievous harm done by that attack. Yes, Jazz would recover fine. Yes, the carry was going well enough. No, he could not tell who the sire was yet and you're an idiot for asking, Ironhide. That prompted the question of whether he could tell when the sparkling was conceived and yes he could, thank you very much.

Ratchet gave them the estimated range during which the glitch had to have gotten himself sparked and that lead into a renewed discussion. The gap was based on a number of factors, primarily the health of the sparkling; a more recent date meant for a healthier sparkling while an earlier date indicated it was underdeveloped. Ratchet was rather sure he saw Prowl twitch at that news, but even if he did there was no reading the included wing movement. He could barely fix the things, he most certainly hadn't had time in his life to study wing language.

As such he was unprepared for Prowl's dual questions of how soon Jazz would be awoken and whether he would be allowed visitors. The answers were easy though, he was already out of medical stasis so whenever his frame came online (likely a few joors away yet, by the medic's reasoning) and individually so long as they were approved by Ratchet himself, and accepted readily enough by the tactician. Prowl was likely looking to chastise the glitch; a task which Ratchet had no objections against at all. He most certainly deserved it and the Praxian would know better than to overly stress a carrying mech.

Resolute that that wasn't going to be any sort of problem, Ratchet allowed himself to be drawn back in and distracted by the continued discussion around the table.

~~

It wasn't much later that found him headed to the Medbay. The officer meeting had officially concluded, although many had remained behind to continue the conversation. That was not his priority though. Checking on Jazz was. Well, Jazz and his sparkling both. 

He garnered a few questioning looks from other still injured Autobots, but he ignored them all and once his destination was clear they did the same. It was most likely they expected him to verbally berate the Third in Command over the present situation. His reputation did precede him after all. None of that mattered however, as he reached the private room Jazz was housed in and entered.

The room's occupant noticed him immediately and spoke up, questioning, as the door slid shut. "Prowl?"

"Jazz," he greeted calmly.

"Look, if yer here ta tell me I'm an idiot or chew me out fer not knowin' then forget it. I already know."

"Do you really?" Prowl retaliated, sensor wings rising on his back the more he said. "Do you have any idea how much of a glitch it makes you for going out into battle in your condition? And not just battles, but sneaking around Decepticon bases as well!"

"It's not like I knew," Jazz tried to argue but Prowl ignored him.

"What sort of malfunction thinks that sort of thing is in any way acceptable‽ You endangered not only your own existence but that of your creation. As well as the life of every single Autobot and neutral. Where would the rest of us be if we were counting on you completing a task and you had failed or even, Primus forbid, offlined because of this? Carrying a newspark is a serious responsibility and needs to be treated as such!"

"Ya really think I wanted ta let any a' ya down?"

Jazz's guilt was beginning to show but Prowl didn't relent. "And yet you did. By getting sparked without even knowing you have let down everyone counting on you to protect them. And given your recent conduct, you have let down that sparkling developing inside you.

"What are you going to say when your creation asks about the sire?"

Jazz had wilted during Prowl's commentary but that question flared his anger again. How dare Prowl accuse him like this?

"You can leave now, _sir_." The title was given through a disdainful sneer. "I would, gladly, but I can't exactly get out of this berth and I am so done with this. Just who do you think you are?" While he couldn't climb out of it, the saboteur certainly could give himself presence enough in the berth and he utilized that trick to its fullest potential now. "You have no idea what I've been dealing with or anything I've been through since carrying. Do you have even the slightest clue how hard it is to find a steady donor‽"

"So you did know."

That soft accusation plunged the room into silence. Jazz rapidly replayed the conversation mentally to find that yes, he had indeed revealed that truth. Well frag…

It was Prowl, though, who broke the silence. "If you know who the sire is we can have them transferred back to this base, provided they are an Autobot."

He might have said more but Jazz cut in with a simple, "no."

"A Decepticon then," Prowl theorized. Jazz did spend almost more time in their bases than Autobot ones and it was far more likely than him creating with a Neutral. Plus it answered the question of how; Decepticons weren't the most gentle to prisoners and the right blow to the right place could have disabled the spy's inhibitor. "In that case the only alternate course of action is one I strongly advise against in case the information got into the wrong servos. And in a situation like this the sire's own might be the worst of all."

Jazz had sank back in on himself again and when Prowl paused he could only find the will to say one thing. "You can't know."

"I am not going to judge you for what a Decepticon forced on you."

"That's not it," Jazz defended weakly, although he wasn't sure why he bothered. Every time he ran his vocalizer he seemed to dig himself a little deeper.

This time Prowl remained silent for a long while, considering possibilities. Finally though, his frame and posture stiffened to full professional degree but his tone gentle. "Tell me which Autobot did this and they will feel justice. No one is allowed to take advantage of their fellow soldiers, but to target a senior officer is a high crime indeed."

"It ain't like that, Prowler."

Prowl looked at Jazz and the latter ex-vented deeply. It would seem he couldn't hide forever so here was where it would all fall apart. That hurt. Even though they hadn't held an actual conversation outside of work in metacycles, Jazz did still strongly care for Prowl. It was too bad he couldn't feel the same.

Well, at least he got the mental image of Prowl attempting to prosecute himself, courtesy of said mech. That had to count for something. Right?

The tactician was still staring at him expectantly and Jazz had to force his vocalizer to start, but once it did he desperately wished it would stop. "It wasn' anythin' I didn' want, the 'facin' at least. Pit, this little one's sire is an amazin' frag an' even if I weren't carryin' I'd wanna be in his berth e'ry night. Creatin' wasn' part a' the plan but I couldn' jus' get rid a' her once I did know. What kinda freak jus' ends a newspark, ya know?"

Prowl nodded but remained silent to see where Jazz would take this.

"Things jus' couldn' work out b'tween us though, so I had ta find a decent surrogate. But that didn' work either so finally I decided ta jus' get what energy I could from who I could and let the circumstances leave the sire a mystery.

"He's a good mech," Jazz added quickly, amending the comment almost immediately after making it. "No, he's an amazin' mech. The best I've ever met even, an' he doesn't deserve ta have ta deal with this. Or me…"

That last admission hurt to say, cutting straight to the core of his spark but Jazz knew it was true. Little did he know that it had wounded Prowl as well, who had always felt the opposite was closer to the truth.

They lapsed into silence once more, this one somehow simultaneously both more and less tense than the previous. Once again, it was Prowl who eventually broke it with a quiet observation.

"So that's why you wanted to end our arrangement."

Jazz withdrew even further as the weight of the words pressed down on him. He couldn't speak anymore and even though it hadn't been a question the Third in Command forced himself to nod. That gained a wing flick as Prowl remained just as silent as he was for the time being. After an eternity though, the tactician made another inquiry.

"Why?"

There were a billion and one questions that could be asking, forcing Jazz to ask one in return. "Why what?"

"Why would you hide our creation from me?"

Jazz couldn't help wincing at the pain in those words. This was neither his goal nor a possible outcome in any of the scenarios he'd envisioned for if he ever told Prowl. It made him want to pull the Praxian close and hug and comfort him until he felt better. That was the carrying talking, Jazz knew, so he didn't. Even if a tiny hidden thread in his processor argued that he would want to do so anyway.

"B'cause I know ya an' I know ya'd wanna spend as much time as ya could with yer creation," Jazz explained. "But it would cut into yer work time an' leave ya feelin' like yer shirkin' both sets a' responsibilities. I care about ya too much ta do that to ya."

And there it was, an admission that he held feelings for his fellow officer. He hadn't meant to mention it but the words had just slipped out at the end and there was no taking them back. No matter how much his spark already ached over the loss of this mech from his life.

Jazz let his helm fall down in shame but eventually had to look up when his commander didn't say a word in response. "Prowl?" he inquired softly.

That seemed to pull the other mech back to his senses. At least for an astrosecond anyway. Prowl optics brightened faintly as his focus shifted outwards once more and even though he had to restart his vocalizer, subtly, so Jazz wouldn't follow the reason why, there was no doubt he had something he intended to say. 

It seemed an eternally long wait before the question came out. "Is that really how you feel?"

Then came Jazz's turn to stall out. Not because he didn't know what to say, but because he was worried how his answer would be received. An excruciating klik passed and a second was nearly up before the saboteur responded. He couldn't make his vocalizer function, however, so he merely nodded with his helm turned down in anticipation of the shame he was about to experience.

"Alright," Prowl began slowly, hesitating to speak the words that would forever change their interactions. "So you have feelings for me." It was a rhetorical question and though he did pause, it wasn't for Jazz to give a redundant answer. The other thankfully obliged, remaining silent for Prowl to continue. "That's good... because I care about you too."

Jazz looked up at that, gauging Prowl's honesty even as he went on. "I've only recently noticed, but I do care. Possibly more than I even know, but certainly more than I should if we are to remain merely fellow soldiers…"

This time the questioning in his tone was hopeful when Jazz spoke. "What are you thinking, Prowl?"

"Well..." The tactician paused to ex-vent deeply. "With a sparkling on the way, you'll both need more stability than you have presently, so if you were so inclined I would hope that perhaps you and I could, well…"

A twitchy flick of his wings and Prowl tried again. "It would be improper and highly inconsiderate of me to leave you to raise and care for a creation I sired all by yourself, and my quarters are large enough to handle two mechs and a sparkling easily, so…"

Jazz made a waving gesture to cut Prowl off from making another attempt. A smile threatened to break out on his faceplates but he had to be sure what was being offered, and more importantly, why. "I think I get it an' if yer offerin' what I hope ya are then I accept on one condition."

"What is that?"

"I like the honest answer to my next question."

Prowl paused, suddenly concerned over the potential things that could be asked, but he was determined to see this through. "And just what is that question?"

Jazz took a few nanokliks to really study Prowl. There was just the barest quiver to his frame, only slightly more pronounced in his sensorwings, and Jazz had to hope that the fear it most likely indicated was focused on the question and not on coming up with a lie on the spot. He really, really hoped too, that he was right about the other's reasoning. This was something he wanted more than he had wanted anything else in a very long time.

"Why are ya offerin' yer help at all? No one's likely ta believe the bitlet's yers an' I don' wanna hafta owe ya anythin' when this is over." Although when and how one could define creating as 'over' was a mystery he wasn't about to try and tackle.

Prowl's sensor panels shot up at that. No matter how mild it was, the accusation he might only be using Jazz stung. It was a wonder he found any words at all. "If you honestly think so poorly of me-"

Jazz cut him off in a rush. "I don't. I swear I don't. I jus' had ta be sure 'cause there are bots out there that do try an' take advantage an' I do really like ya but I jus' had ta make sure. No point in lettin' myself get completely caught up in ya only ta find I was jus' being used."

Prowl couldn't help staring for a klik, just admiring the strength Jazz had. Here he was in such a bad way, carrying with no help at all, and when someone came along with a solution to his biggest concerns he did the intelligent thing. Rather than immediately agreeing to get the help he desperately needed, Jazz had enough sense to make sure his situation afterwards wouldn't be even worse than it was now. Begrudgingly, the tactician also had to admit it took an incredibly clever mind to hide carrying for so long in wartime conditions. This certainly explained why Jazz had been slowing down in his missions too. Another mystery solved.

Realizing they had fallen into another silence, Prowl voiced a question to clarify the situation. "How did my answer fare then?"

"Definitely good enough if ya jus' wanna casually help out," Jazz answered without missing a beat, although he hesitated momentarily in adding the latter half. "But if ya were hopin' ta pursue somethin' a bit more formal than our previous arrangement, well, we can talk about that too."

Their gazes met and Jazz's bright but tentative smile drew out Prowl's own, which only encouraged Jazz's to grow wider. "I think," Prowl started, moving in closer, "that I'd like to discuss the second option further."

"Really?" Jazz's expression brightened even more at that and Prowl smiled a bit wider, his wings fluttering slightly behind him.

Prowl raised an arm and brought his servo up to Jazz's face to gently brush his cheekplating. He wasn't entirely surprised when Jazz leaned into the touch and turned it into a caress before speaking softly. "May I?"

Jazz nodded, not even entirely sure what was going to happen but willing to trust this mech completely. At least for the time being, although he desperately wanted that trust to extend indefinitely.

As for Prowl, he only needed that small gesture before he leaned in to press a kiss to Jazz's lips. It would be their first one ever and even though it was a simple thing, the context spoke volumes.


	12. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's the last chapter. Hope you all like and sorry about it taking forever. There will be a sequel soon but I got lazy and don't have it started yet. Keep watching though. ^-^

There was a knock and the door slid open. A glance up and Prowl was only moderately surprised at who it was, mostly because he hadn't just strolled in. "Jazz."

"Heya Prowler." The response was hesitant but he seemed to gain confidence as he spoke. "Ya got some free time?"

"For you?" The question that was really more of a statement received a slight nod. "Always."

When Jazz didn't say more, Prowl prompted with a simple question. "Now? Or later?"

"Now, if yer willin'," came the cautious answer.

"Of course," Prowl answered, pushing his chair back and flicking his sensorwings in a 'come' gesture.

Jazz's smile threatened to break his facial plating as he crossed the room in response to Prowl's offering. As soon as he reached the Praxian, the saboteur crawled onto his lap, his engine practically purring at the contact. He got to remain like that for half a klik before a question was directed his way. "Should I take this to mean you don't need an energy donation?"

"Wouldn' argue if ya wanna, an' I definitely want ya later, but this is good fer now," Jazz answered. "She's plenty happy jus' like this, ya know?"

"Who?" Prowl inquired immediately.

"Our bitlet. She likes bein' close ta her sire."

"Are you sure?" The tactician's tone turned playful. "I think that's just our creation's carrier who feels that way."

"Well… yeah," Jazz answered just as playfully before attempting to cuddle closer. "He likes it too."

"You are so complicated." There was open affection in the words. Complexity was a positive trait as far as Prowl was concerned, so long as it wasn't unnecessary. Even then though, it did keep a situation interesting. He was musing over those thoughts, among others, as he turned his primary focus back to his work and it was only after a few more kliks that something occurred to him. 

"She?" Prowl asked, drawing back from Jazz just as far as his chair would allow. Disturbed from his peace, Jazz just stared for an astrosecond before responding with a confused, "huh?"

"You said 'she'," Prowl elaborated. "Talking about our sparkling. You can already tell we're going to have a femme?"

"Oh, that." Jazz's helm ducked temporarily before he looked up again, visor catching optics. "I's a Polyhex thing, act'lly. We were founded by Solas, ya know?"

"The great Creator Prime." Jazz nodded at the assessment, even as Prowl continued, slowly piecing it together himself. "Also the only femme of the Original Thirteen."

"Yup," Jazz agreed with a smile. "An' as a way ta honor her, it's tradition fer Polyhexians ta consider all newsparks as femmes until at least separation."

"So," the Praxian began slowly, "femme until proven otherwise."

Jazz nodded again but despite the smile still on face plating, a thread of apprehension had crept into his field. Prowl hadn't shared his opinion of the tradition yet and it felt like forever until he finally did.

"It is a sweet gesture, so I approve." Before he could continue, Prowl found himself wrapped in Jazz's arms in an embrace so tight it would have been stifling from anyone else. Somehow though, Jazz made it feel right, just as he seemed capable of doing in nearly any situation. Still, he had more to say. "And what of our creation? How does she like it?"

Jazz drew back this time. "Ya said 'she' now," he commented, otherwise ignoring the question.

"I did," Prowl answered, amusement on his features and in his field. "It's a harmless tradition with special history, and from what little I recall of Polyhex before the war there is no insult in adopting it myself. Please do correct me if I'm mistaken."

"Yer really gonna try an' follow some Polyhexian traditions?"

"If it is feasible and does no harm, then I see no reason not to at least make the attempt. There is nothing wrong with trying to learn another's traditions, especially considering it is my mate's culture in this instance."

Jazz's response was another tight embrace. He moved so quickly into it that their chair nearly toppled over but by some miracle they remained upright.

"Thank you." Jazz spoke softly but loud enough to be heard. "For givin' me a chance. Fer givin' _us_ a chance. I... Jus' thank you so much."

"It is my honor and pleasure, Jazz."


End file.
